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The surgeon’s narrative of the surgery has shown up in my online records (translated from Swedish):

Patient under general anaesthetic, flat position. Surgery area washed and dried sterile. Inspected the plate [the grafted area], which looks good, distally somewhat narrowed so we decided to include some skin. At the join between the distal plate and his urethra it’s also slightly fibrotic. Incision with scalpel along the long side of the transplant down to the corpora. Then incision across circa four millimeters distally from the join between the distal edge of the transplant and his own urethra. Cut through the fibrotic area and could excise the fibrosis with a little skin. Then incision across proximally. Stitched the urethra with 5/0 BioSyn running suture. Joined together well over a 12 Ch catheter. Mobilised subcutaneous tissue to cover the row of sutures. No tension in tissue. No twisting. Stitched the skin in two layers, first two individual subcutaneous stitches, finished with intracutaneous MonoCryl running suture. Applied dressing, penis upwards and light dressing on it.

It took me a long time to get to sleep, I think I eventually dozed off around midnight. Then I was woken up by pain from an erection around 2 am. I’d managed to get the nurse to leave one dose of oxycodone by my bed so I could take it immediately and it lasted for the rest of the night.

As usual I got woken up at 6 am to have my temperature taken and then didn’t get breakfast until after 8 am. At rounds they told me that I’d be getting discharged later today. I had to contact my husband so that he could arrange coming to collect me.

The rest of the day was mostly spent hanging around the dayroom. They have surprisingly hard and uncomfortable chairs for a ward where patients often have tender nether regions.

I finally got to meet the surgeon after lunch. He seemed happy with how the surgery had gone. I’m to go back in a couple of weeks to have the catheter removed.

The two-hour drive home was uneventful but almost as soon as I got in the door I had a really strong bladder spasm. Then a little bit later I had one that was so strong it managed to squeeze some urine out around the catheter. I’m hoping the effect of the tolterodine is still building up. I’m avoiding caffeine for a bit anyway, since that can apparently make bladder spasms worse.

I took the train through yesterday for my admission appointment at the hospital. They’d told me I’d be admitted to the ward but it turns out there wasn’t a bed available so they booked me into a hotel in town. That worked out well since I’m sure I slept much better than I would have in the hospital.

At 06:45 this morning the taxi picked me up and it was the now-familiar routine of preparation then being wheeled down to the operating theatre.

This time I didn’t get left in recovery as long, so I was at the ward in time for lunch. I’d made a point of asking the recovery staff to ask them to keep some for me. For some reason I never feel ill after general anaesthetic but I’m usually ravenous after the fast.

I wasn’t in so much pain this time, I just have to call the nurse to ask for more pain relief when I start to be able to feel the stabbing pains through the ache in my scrotum. I think the stabbing pain might be as things shift about down there, it’s one of those body parts that’s seldom still for long.

Lunch was a stew made with doner kebab meat, not something I’d ever had before, it was OK. The crêpes with fresh fruit during the afternoon were actually quite nice though. Dinner was allegedly moussaka but I couldn’t find any aubergine and very little meat.

No sign of a doctor all day. I’d been hoping to ask why I only had a urethral catheter, when I was expecting to have a supra-pubic as well. I’ll have to wait and ask in the morning.

One problem with not seeing a doctor was that I couldn’t discuss pain relief and when I asked one of the nurses she insisted it was too late to make any changes to what had been ordered for me. Of course that meant that they hadn’t given me any slow-release painkillers, apparently being awoken unnecessarily by intense pain during the night isn’t something they care about. I did manage to get Tolterodine to deal with the bladder spasms without the usual arguments though.

My husband drove through after work to keep me company for a while and help me argue with the nurse. Getting adequate long-lasting pain relief for the nights is another point I’ll have to bring up during rounds tomorrow.

So now I’m settling down for the night, hoping my room mate won’t be too noisy.

Tomorrow I’ll be taking the train to the hospital where I had the first stage of my two-stage urethroplasty. After quite a long wait I’m finally getting the second stage surgery.

Also, someone called Rebecca contacted me through the form on this blog but my reply got bounced back because there was a mistake in the address. So if you’re reading this Rebecca, please try again, I’m not ignoring you.

I finally had my follow-up visit to the urology clinic, to see how things are going six months after stage one of my urethroplasty.

They did uroflowmetry, which looked good, and the surgeon had a quick look at the graft. She thinks it has healed nicely and is ready for stage two.

Unfortunately she’s going to be off sick for a while in the coming months, so I might get my operation in the next month or so, or maybe after Christmas. In any case it’ll be about two or three days in hospital and a catheter for a couple of weeks.

My final night in the hospital was probably the best since surgery. I’d set alarms to wake me up to take morphine so that it wouldn’t wear off completely during the night, that seemed to be a success.

Just after breakfast the surgeon came round and removed the dressing on my penis. Apparently everything is looking good, you can see that the graft is looking pink and healthy through the gel dressing in the photos. So I’m to come back through in a week so that she can have another look and I can get rid of at least one of the catheters.

Actually getting discharged took most of the rest of the day. A nurse turned up with a load of discharge paperwork. I refused the catheter bags they were offering since I’ve already got a good stock of ones that I know I can get on with. Then a junior doctor came to discuss prescriptions for drugs to take home.

The admin staff on the ward were kind enough to arrange for transport from home to the hospital for next week’s visit, since I can’t drive or take public transport. Dealing with the part of our county council that handles that stuff is usually unpleasant.

So I finally got away from the ward and stopped at the pharmacy in the hospital to pick up my prescriptions. Except the junior doctor had forgotten to submit them (electronically). My husband went and spoke with him and fixed that. Next we discovered that he hadn’t remembered all of the drugs, but the pharmacist called him and sorted that out.

I still couldn’t pick up the last of the drugs because some delay in the system meant that the pharmacist couldn’t see that prescription, so we decided to pick them up on our way home.

The drive home was fairly comfortable, some pain on rough sections of road but nothing too bad. My cheek and jaw were starting to hurt again though.

For the next week I’m pretty much trapped at home and to keep activity to a minimum. I may have a go at working from home but I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to sit at a desk.

This time it was a pretty mixed night. It started very badly, with constant disruptions from my roommate. It seemed he kept tangling, kinking and pulling out his various tubes. So the nurses would arrive, turn on the lights and start speaking to him extremely loudly. He also had his CPAP machine, which was surprisingly quiet. Unfortunately it sounds like a vacuum cleaner if you pull off the mask and leave it running, which he kept doing.

The poor old soul’s on his last legs and a bit confused, so I can’t be too annoyed. On the other hand it would be nice if he wasn’t in a room with me.

Later in the night I managed to sleep fairly solidly, without disruptions or pain. Unfortunately by about 04:30 all the painkillers had left my body and it was time for the most painful erection yet. It really felt like something was going to burst. Fortunately the (male) nurse on duty was very quick to bring paracetamol and morphine.

So now that the fog has lifted the sun is shining into my room and this will hopefully be my last full day in the hospital (this time).

A much better night. I’d worked out that the morphine tablets last two or three hours. So I took one about half an hour before going to sleep. Before falling asleep I managed to get an erection, desperately trying to think about other things but without any effect.

During the night I asked for more morphine when I felt I needed it and actually got an OK night’s sleep.

The doctor at rounds said she’d remind the nurses to just leave the morphine tablets with me, so I don’t have to keep calling them during the night.

Washed and got dressed and then spent the rest of the morning working out how to defeat the stupid filtering on the hospital’s internet. As well as blocking websites they try to block anything apart from web browsing and it seems like their DNS is pretty broken too. For example today I suddenly got DNS errors for this site. Actually it seems like all .uk sites get DNS errors.

After lunch my husband came to visit and took me out for a bit of a spin in a wheelchair. Although sitting upright isn’t all that comfortable yet it was great to get a decent cup of coffee and go for a stroll/roll along the river. He also helped me wash my hair, which was sorely needed.

I started off the night dozing fitfully but eventually managed to get to sleep properly but interrupted by painful erections. At one point I called for a nurse, she came, ignored me, peered at my roommate and then left (I tried to call out but too hoarse). I pressed the button again and she eventually came back and started fiddling with my roommate’s catheter tubing. I said excuse me and she told me to wait until she was finished. Eventually she came over to my bed and I told her I was in quite severe pain. Of course I had to call and remind her again before she actually turned up with some morphine.

After breakfast and rounds I got up and had a wash, which made me feel a lot more human. The nurses changed my bedding so I wasn’t lying in my own bloodstains and shaved-off pubic hair any more. I got dressed in the hospital day clothes, that make you look like a convict.

I had a lot of trouble staying awake, so I dozed for a bit, having very weird half-awake dreams.

Lunch was isterband, which was OK but unfortunately slightly spicy and irritating to my cheek.

Dozed some more in the afternoon. Had some coffee but it wasn’t enough to keep me awake.

I had a fairly disturbed night, waking up a lot. After I got some morphine I finally managed to get off to sleep properly but was woken up by the searing pain of an erection at about five. Like last time, it’s nice to know things are still working but I could do without the pain.

Cornflakes with yoghurt and a cup of coffee for breakfast, without any serious pain from my cheek. It’s really amazing how quickly that heals.

At rounds I was told I could get up a little bit, but shouldn’t walk about too much. My night-time drug prescription was changed too, so I’d get a morphine tablet to take if I woke up during the night. The dressing was looking fine, no blood seeping through.

The cannula in my left elbow had come quite loose, the dressing hadn’t stuck very well in the first place and was hanging off. I asked three nurses to fix it but they all forgot. Eventually I managed to get a nurse who could do that and bring me a bowl so that I could brush my teeth.

I got up in the afternoon to change from the surgical gown into a nightshirt. Not much of an improvement but at least it doesn’t expose my arse to all and sundry. I made it through to the bathroom in the evening to clean my teeth. Getting in and out of bed is pretty painful but standing was OK.

During the day the confused elderly guy in the next bed was discharged and a new old man appeared with his wife. At least they said hello and introduced themselves.

I barely slept due to a combination of nerves and my roommate repeatedly switching his light on and off (he’s elderly and apparently very senile). I was first on the surgery list, so the nurses popped up around 05:30 to remind me to shower and change into the fetching totally-open-up-the-back surgery gown.

Right on time, at 08:30, I was wheeled down but there was a queue in the pre-op area and it was 08:45 before someone came to fetch me and after 9 before I was taken into the operating theatre. I’m pretty familiar with the whole procedure, the staff were very pleasant and chatty, and before long I was out.

As usual my memories from recovery are a bit confused. I’d asked them to call my husband when I got out of surgery and I remember reminding them while I was still pretty out of it, but they never called him. Fortunately he’d guessed about the right time anyway, so he was waiting for me at the ward when I was wheeled up there a couple of hours later.

Compared to my previous urethroplasty I’d say I had a lot more pain on waking up this time. In recovery I needed some extra paracetamol for the aching in my groin and then as the local anaesthetic in my cheek wore off I needed a couple of doses of morphine.

Up at the ward the groin pain was OK, a constant dull ache, but I needed some local anaesthetic gel for my cheek to be able to eat the horrendously dry fish we got for dinner. As always I was hungry rather than nauseous after the general anaesthetic.

The surgeon came to see me in the afternoon and she seemed very happy with how things had gone. She said there were 5 cm of urethra that was completely scarred and unsalvageable but the rest looked healthy. That was a relief, I was worried they’d discover more scarring. The pain in my cheek was explained by them having to take a roughly 5 by 3 cm chunk of tissue to make the graft, much more than last time.

I’m not allowed to sit up fully today and I’m to stay in bed for five days altogether. I was glad to hear that I am allowed to get up to use the toilet, so I won’t have to poop in a bedpan. Small mercies! They left in my suprapubic catheter and I’ve (apparently) got a urethral catheter through the healthy urethra near the tip of my penis, looping out over the dressing covering the graft and then back in at the base of my penis and into the bladder.

So now I’m just relaxing in bed and trying to find ways to keep myself amused. It’s just as well I planned ahead and brought my laptop. I took a photo of the dressing, but it’s not especially interesting.

In my online medical records I can see the surgeon’s full narrative of the surgery, so here it is (translated from Swedish):

Patient in flat position, surgery area washed and dried sterile. Begin to apply gel in the meatus, insert a 14 Ch catheter circa 5 cm then dead stop. Incision in the skin over the urethra. Subsequently with scissors through the subcutaneous tissue. Place urethroplasty hooks. Open the urethra along the midline, where it is significantly fibrotic from the incision and circa 5 cm proximally, then opens up nicely. Decide that I must excise the whole fibrotic area. Measure a strip 5 cm long and barely 3 cm wide. Subsequently the graft is taken from the right hand side of the cheek, draw ut 5 x 3 cm after I marked out the opening for Stensen’s duct. Inject local anaesthetic under the tissue. I separate the graft when I reach 5 cm length. Control of haemostasis with diathermy. Place a compress with xylocaine-adrenaline in the cheek. Trim the transplant. Mesh [the graft]. Place the graft in position and fasten with a few stitches to the edges and also 3 rows of sutures to hold the graft down onto the corpora. Then stitch the skin edges to the graft and urethra, which I spatulated circa 6 mm at both proximal and distal ends. Lubricate the urethra. Lay a mepitel compress over the graft and a 14 Ch catheter in place. The penis is laid up towards the belly and pressure bandaged. Finally checking the wound in the cheek, finish with two single stitches since I don’t want to burn right by the opening of Stensen’s duct.

I’m back in hospital waiting for the first stage of my two-stage urethroplasty tomorrow. We drove the two hours up here in the morning and then most of the rest of the day was spent in the admission process and hanging around. We managed to break out for a little while so I could have a nice meal though.

Now I’m sitting in my bed and my husband is on his way back home. I’m going to be here for at least five days after surgery and it’s much cheaper for him to hire a car and drive up to visit than to stay in a hotel here.

I never got a reply from the surgeon to my message about my wound reopening. It closed up again within a day or two and now the wound is looking pretty good, it’s not even very visible any more. The odd sensations from regrowing nerves now seem to mostly be in my foreskin instead of along the wound.

I did get a letter with a date for my follow-up appointment. Seems like they’d forgotten about it until I reminded them, again. With it being peak summer holiday season it was apparently impossible to give me an appointment in the period they originally told me (4-6 weeks after the removal of the catheter) and I’m going on vacation myself so the appointment’s not until the end of August.

Still no output from the suprapubic catheter so I headed up to the urology ward around 08:30. They seemed to be expecting me, so I sat at my bed and waited for rounds.

The doctor suggested trying flushing out the suprapubic catheter again. So a nurse came round to do that. As she removed the dressing from the suprapubic catheter the whole thing came along with it. I could see quite clearly that the balloon had burst and the catheter had obviously pulled out of my bladder.

It looked a lot like when the nurse had used forceps to remove the old catheter bag that had over-pressurised the balloon and burst it.

After a quick consultation with the doctor and a more senior nurse it was decided that I’d manage over the weekend with just the one catheter and go back in for discharge on Monday as planned.

I had a comfortable afternoon at home watching TV. The upside of not having the suprapubic catheter is that I didn’t have any of the belly discomfort I’d had since the operation.

The non-stick dressing on my penis and scrotum had started to come away from the stitches so I could see how far down onto my scrotum the wound went. That explained why there was so much tenderness and bruising down there. Click here for photos.

Again I had to wait a while for my surgery date. This time it was complicated for them to coordinate the local schedules with the schedule of the visiting surgeon. I eventually got a letter to let me know that it would be the 12th of May.

Two weeks before surgery I had an appointment for admission. A nurse in urology took blood and urine samples and measured my pulse and blood pressure. Then I got sent off to a different part of the hospital to meet an anaesthetist, who seemed happy that I wouldn’t pose any problems.

The whole thing was finished in just over an hour.

Around this time I took some “before” photos, so that I could compare afterwards. You can see them by clicking here.

So a week after the surgery I had the usual problems that guys seem to have with catheters but that nobody bothers to tell you about.

Being woken up during the night when erections meant that my penis simultaneously tried to pull out the catheter and scraped it over the inside of my urethra was a new experience, and one I could have happily done without. After a couple of days I learned to tape the catheter into a position that minimised the unpleasantness.

I think that night-time erections were a particular problem for me because my penis changes a lot in size between flaccid and erect. So an erection meant pulling an extra 10 cm or so of catheter over my wounded urethra. It was also a latex catheter and they seem to be stickier than the other types.

During the week with the catheter I worked from home and tried to avoid walking around too much. I never did find a position for the tubing that didn’t become uncomfortable while walking.

Having the catheter removed was very easy, although slightly delayed by a massive failure of the county’s healthcare IT system that morning. The nurse deflated the balloon and pulled it out smoothly, all I felt was a slightly odd sensation and it was done.

I went straight back to work afterwards and discovered that the catheter had left my prostate a bit tender, so I needed to use a soft cushion on my office chair.

A few days later I started feeling like I had flu or something. Several colds and flus were going around the office at the time but my husband insisted I go to the emergency room and it turned out I had a fairly severe urinary tract infection. By the time I was admitted to the urology ward, around midnight, I was sweating profusely and feeling pretty grim.

They kept me in the hospital for three days while the antibiotics started to take effect. When I was discharged I had a meeting with the doctor who’d done the urethrotomy. I was a bit concerned that I hadn’t had any night-time erections for a few days (which was probably just due to being really ill) but he just casually said that it could be a complication of the surgery and made a weird comment about the next step being anastomosis and that that would likely cause shortening of the penis. It was an odd thing to say both because anastomosis isn’t at all a suitable surgery for strictures in the penile urethra and because it had nothing to do with the question I’d asked.

After a week of recovery I could concentrate for long enough to go back to work, although the infection had settled in my prostate and needed another couple of weeks of antibiotics to be completely rid of it.

I made an appointment at the local hospital’s STD clinic, thinking they were a good way to get into the system. They found evidence of inflammation in my urethra (which has been happening for years, without any positive test results for infection) and immediately assumed it was being caused by an STD and wanted me to start on antibiotics while I waited for test results.

Instead of waiting and taking antibiotics that I was fairly sure I didn’t need I made an appointment with my GP. He also immediately leapt to the conclusion that it was probably chlamydia. Fortunately my husband, who is himself a doctor, was there and pointed out that for men any sign of blood in the urine means that you should be referred to urology. The GP grudgingly gave in and referred me.